


Good Enough

by spicywatson



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-28 05:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18749839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicywatson/pseuds/spicywatson
Summary: After his parents have a fight, Martin slips away. Based on Riz's prompt: https://twitter.com/horrorriz/status/1125069099644661762





	Good Enough

“A heist, Ed, really?!” Came the incredulous yet absolutely enraged voice.

“I told you, Oswald, everything went smoothly. He did really well, I kept an eye on him the whole time-”

“Ed, he’s only a baby, it’s not safe!”

“He’s nine years old!” 

“Exactly! Nine! He’s far too young to be involved in this!”

“Oswald, this is a part of his life! We can’t shelter him forever!” Ed shouts back, trying to reason with him. “It’s better that he learns this stuff from us, and learns how to be safe.”

“But at _nine_ years old, Ed? You couldn’t have waited until he was _older?_ ”

The fight continues, the voices of Ed and Oswald muffled but distinguishable from the living room. Martin grows weary and anxious as he presses himself down into the sofa, imagining himself sinking into it, into his own little world. He fiddles with the notepad strung around his neck. Martin hated it when his parents fought, especially when it was about him. Although it was rare and he knew his fathers loved each other very much, the tension in the house could become unbearable.

Still, Martin couldn’t help the sting of guilt and shame that rose inside him, burning his cheeks with a stifling heat. His father agreed to allow him to go on a museum heist. Beginner’s work. Dad said he had done really well, that he was a natural. Martin had been so proud, grinning from ear to ear, face glowing. But then Papa found out about the heist. About how they had almost gotten caught.

Ed and Martin had returned home earlier this evening to find Oswald waiting impatiently, anxiously, museum floor plan blueprints clutched tight in his hand. That’s when it all started. That’s when Martin slipped away to avoid the turbulence and find a little quiet.

Edward whines from his place on the armchair, probably sensing the disturbance. Giving the dog a weak smile, Martin pats his legs to summon him. Tries to ignore the pounding of his heart in his ears.

“I can’t believe you would put our child at risk like that!” Oswald’s shrill voice tears through the walls. 

Ed is shouting back an indiscernible reply and Martin can’t take this anymore.

 _Come see us any time, okay? You’re always welcome, honey,_ Aunt Lee’s sweet, warm voices echoes in his head. He smiles to himself. Although Uncle Jim could be a bit… _awkward_ at times, Martin felt comfortable with the two of them. Of course, Martin would never trade his parents for any others. But Aunt Lee and Uncle Jim never fought when he was around, instead greeting him with open arms.

Moving as quietly and delicately as possible, Martin grabs the dog’s leash, latches it to his collar, and silently leads him towards the back door. It shouldn’t be too far of a walk to Aunt Lee and Uncle Jim’s house.

\------------------------------------------------

Oswald slumps down into the dining room chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache threatens to erupt behind his eyes. Sighing deeply, he helps himself to a much-needed glass of whiskey.

Ed faces out the window, back facing him and arms folded tightly.

They need time to cool off, but Oswald finds himself speaking anyway. “I’m sorry, Ed. I just worry about him all the time,” his voice nearly breaks. “I can’t imagine something happening to him.” 

His husband is silent for several moments before finally exhaling slowly, pressure draining from his body and arms falling loose at his sides. “Don’t apologize, Oswald,” he murmurs. “I know you worry about him, you have every right to. I certainly know the feeling,” Ed takes a breath. “I’m sorry. I should have at least told you about the heist.”

Oswald swirls the whiskey in his glass as he thinks. Maybe Ed was right about needing to prepare Martin for this life. But Oswald can’t help but think their son is still a bit too young to be introduced to business deals and heists just yet. After eventually polishing off his drink, he rises from his seat and joins Ed by the window. He presses into his side as Ed rests an arm across his shoulders.

“I love you, Ed. I hope you know that,” he reminds him, voice raw with emotion.

His husband hums in response. “I know, sweetheart. I love you too, of course.”

They share a quick kiss of reconciliation before a thought occurs to Oswald. “I suppose I should go check on Martin.” His heart pulls as he realizes how frightened their son must have been during all this frantic chaos. 

“Martin,” Oswald calls, hobbling into the living room.

He finds it empty.

“Martin?”

Ice cold blood rushes in his ears as a slow, creeping dread weighs on his stomach. Oswald forces himself not to panic, or at least tries. Maybe Martin is in another room. “Ed? Is Martin in the kitchen?” He asks, trying to keep his tone calm and collected.

After a few seconds, Ed replies, “No.” Hesitantly. A little troubled. “Martin?”

That horrible terror begins to clench Oswald’s heart, which beats faster and faster. “He- he’s not in here either.” His legs carry him into the hallway to find Ed, who looks puzzled. He feels so distant in his own body.

“I’ll try upstairs,” Ed says, before leaping up the steps in just a few strides. Still calling for their son, he dashes out of view.

The rapid opening and shutting of doors upstairs echoes in Oswald’s ears. He feels like he’s drowning. Raw fear begins to set in.

When Ed returns, the look of pure alarm on his face is enough to send Oswald into hysterics. His fingers turn to ice and his body goes numb. “Oh god, no,” he whimpers, holding a shaking hand up to his mouth. “No, no, no, no.”

Throwing open the front door, Oswald staggers outside, the dim evening light barely enough to illuminate his path. “Martin?! _Martin!_ ”

He hears the commotion as Ed scrambles down the stairs, nearly tripping as he reaches the bottom step, and chases Oswald outside. His husband is calling for him now, but Oswald ignores him, blood drowning his ears. Can’t think, can barely even breathe. He can’t stop himself as he hobbles across the lawn, as fast as his legs will carry him. He’ll die out here if he has to. Whatever it takes to make sure his child is safe.

But then Ed’s arms close around him, securing him to the spot. He clutches at Ed’s arms, nails digging into them as he attempts to pry himself away. 

“Oswald. Oswald, stop,” Ed says desperately, adjusting his arms tighter as Oswald continues to struggle. “You need to calm down.”

“Calm down? _Calm down?_ ” Oswald gasps hoarsely, finally forcing himself out of Ed’s hold so he can meet his eyes.

Red-rimmed and glistening with tears. Ed isn’t keeping his composure as much as Oswald had thought. Not a cold logician, but a scared parent.

They fall into each other’s arms, Oswald gasping between sobs and Ed’s shoulders silently shaking. The damp grass soaks their pants up to the knees. Eventually they break apart, each trying to take steadying breaths as they pull each other upright again.

“Call Gordon. I’ll get some of our guys out there,” Ed tells him in a gravelly voice. They rush inside. Ed throws himself to the phone, frantically dials a number. Starts barking orders.

Oswald pulls out his own phone, flips it open and smashes Jim’s number out on the keypad.

The phone rings twice before Jim’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Oswald.”

“Jim. Martin’s missing,” Oswald gasps into the phone, his voice strained and tears dropping from his eyes.

“Oswald-”

“He was here one minute and then he was gone, I don’t know where he could be-”

“Oswald,” Jim interrupts a little forcefully. 

Oswald pauses, takes shaky breaths.

“He’s here,” Jim finally says, as placating as possible.

“What?” Oswald breathes. The sound of Ed dropping the phone back down onto the receiver is jarring. He furrows his brow and comes to stand in front of Oswald, gently resting his hands on his arms. Oswald lifts the phone away from his mouth and quietly relays Jim’s message back to Ed. The stress visibly sinks out of his husband’s shoulders.

“Martin showed up at our door about ten minutes ago. Said you two knew he was here and you sent a bodyguard with him?” Jim huffs a laugh. “Thought it was a little strange, but he’s okay. Seems to like my pasta.”

A laugh of anxiety and relief bubbles in Oswald’s chest. _His boy is okay._ “We’ll be right over,” is all he manages to say before hanging up and collapsing against Ed.

\------------------------------------------------

When Jim swings the door open, Barbara Lee held at his hip, the sight that greets Oswald leaves him stunned. His heart stings a little to see Lee and Martin settled at the dinner table, laughing together as they slurp their spaghetti. Edward is curled up on the floor beside Martin’s chair. Jim gently places Barbara Lee into her highchair and takes his seat again.

Most likely sensing his hurt, Ed rests a warm, reassuring hand on Oswald’s lower back.

“Martin,” Oswald finally addresses him, “Do you have any idea what you put your father and I through?”

All eyes lift to watch Oswald and Ed as they hesitate somewhat awkwardly in the doorway. Martin’s face warms and he sinks down into his chair, apparently trying to avoid his father’s serious glare. 

“Martin Elijah Cobblepot, I can still see you,” Oswald chides, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Come here.”

Martin all but drags himself out of his chair and sulks over to his parents, a miserable look souring his sweet face. Oswald expects himself to be annoyed, enraged, but instead he feels a pang of guilt. The fighting was so overwhelming that his child had to find refuge in another home. He and Ed place their hands on Martin’s shoulders, firm but with a soft protectiveness. 

“Say goodbye to Aunt Lee and Uncle Jim,” Oswald instructs, as gently as he can manage. 

The boy waves tentatively at the two, giving them each a nervous smile.

“Bye, sweetie,” Lee says warmly, twirling the pasta on her fork. 

Jim turns away from Barbara Lee, who waits not-so-patiently in her highchair for another spoonful of mashed banana. “See you later, kiddo,” he gives him a sort of half-smile, as much as anyone can expect him to muster.

“I apologize for the interruption,” Oswald says politely, before turning Martin away and ushering him out the door. He hears Ed mutter an apology behind him as well.

“Yeah, you owe me for the mess your dog made on my floor!” Jim calls to them as they head out the door, words muffled by food. Lee quietly reprimands him as he grumbles something about muddy pawprints on his carpeting.

The second the door shuts behind them and they’ve all gathered on the sidewalk, Oswald drops to his knees and yanks Martin into a tight hug. Relishes in the brief comfort of it. He breaks away suddenly, frantically checking Martin for any cuts or bruises. Ed grips Martin’s shoulder tight as he gives him a quick once-over as well.  
Oswald huffs. “You don’t even have a coat on,” he says, voice laced with concern. He shrugs off his own jacket and places it around Martin’s shoulders. “Why on earth did you run away?”

 _I made you guys fight,_ Martin writes slowly, sadly.

“Nobody made us fight,” Ed says tenderly. “We just get frustrated sometimes, and we have to let it out.” 

Martin remains still, pen unmoving on the page. A single tear drops from his eye.

Oswald cups his face in his hands, gentle tears slipping between his fingers. “Oh baby, did you think this was your fault?”

Martin’s little face crumples, his eyebrows pinching together as silent tears begin to stream steadily down his cheeks.

Oswald is momentarily shocked by this, and he feels his heart seize in his chest. “Oh, Martin, darling,” he soothes, gathering his son into his arms. “None of this is your fault,” Oswald whispers, lips pressed against the child’s temple. “We’re so sorry to have scared you.”

Ed kneels beside them and gently combs his fingers through Martin’s hair. “Let’s get him home,” he says softly, to which Oswald nods in agreement.

Ed carries Martin to the car. He falls asleep on the ride home, tucked between his fathers in the backseat. A glowing warmth fills Oswald’s heart and he shares a relieved, adoring glance with Ed.

\------------------------------------------------

Martin wakes as they pull into the driveway, the bright porch lights breaking him from his sleep. He curls up on the backseat, presses his face into Ed’s arm. The sweet gesture earns a chuckle from Ed, who wraps his arms around him, lifting him up as he slips out of the car. Oswald follows behind slowly, having forgotten his cane, and the dog keeps pace with him.

As he treks the distance from the car to the manor, shoes sinking into the rain-soaked grass and chilly night air icing his nose, Oswald thinks deeply. Martin had looked so happy with Jim and Lee. He can’t help but feel like he’s failed his son. Like he’s simply not a fit parent. He’ll certainly never be like his mother.

They all trudge upstairs, Ed sending Martin off to prepare for bed. Oswald and Ed go to their own room to get changed, those same thoughts still muddling Oswald’s brain.

\------------------------------------------------

“I know what you’re thinking,” Ed raises his eyebrows knowingly, slipping his flannel pants on. He pauses. “Oswald, look at me.”

Oswald slowly looks up, tearing his focus away from buttoning his silk shirt.

His husband is already crossing the bedroom, reaching out to him and pulling him close. “You are a wonderful father,” he soothes. “You really amaze me sometimes!” Ed lets out a gentle laugh, his chest rumbling.

“So do you, my love,” he whispers back.

Wrapping his arms tightly around Ed’s middle, Oswald allows himself to melt into his husband. Breathes a sigh of relief. They hold each other for several moments, taking the time to absorb what’s happened, what could have happened. But it’s over now. Their child is safe.

Martin reappears, dressed in soft, comfortable pajamas, lingering hesitantly in the doorway. Ed and Oswald slowly break out of their embrace and extend their hands towards him, inviting him closer.

“Why don’t you sleep with us tonight,” Ed suggests with a loving smile, placing his hand on his son’s shoulder.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Martin nods somewhat morosely.

The little family piles into bed, Martin settled in the middle, drowning in down comforters and fluffy pillows. The boy curls into Oswald, who gently strokes his hair. Ed secures an arm around them both, keeping them close.

“Martin, you know we love you,” Oswald begins, voice soft as a feather.

A little nod.

“And we would do anything for you?”

Another little nod.

Taking a deep breath, Oswald continues. “We worry about you all the time, and we want to protect you. Do you understand?”

Martin nods, a little more sure this time.

“We fight sometimes, but it doesn’t mean we don’t love you, or each other. And it _certainly_ doesn’t mean it’s your fault,” Ed adds. “We just have disagreements that we need to work out. But we’re sorry to have upset you.”

“We never want you to feel afraid of us.” Dreading the answer, Oswald asks, “Do you trust us?”

He never expected Martin to respond so enthusiastically. Looking up at his fathers, eyes big and sincere, the little boy nods vigorously. He then signs _I love you_ to each of them.

Oswald hums lightly, brushes the curls out of his eyes, and kisses his forehead. “I love you too, my darling.”

“I love you, Martin, always,” Ed leans over and kisses his cheek.

Although he’s incredibly tired and the heavy comfort of sleep beckons him, Martin manages a soft grin.

Oswald glows at this. “There’s that smile,” he says lovingly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It’s such a welcome sight and it’s one Oswald will happily fall asleep to. He and Ed share their own affectionate smiles as Martin drifts off. 

When Oswald wakes up the next morning, Martin is still nestled against him, a little smile tugging at his lips. Ed’s arm around them both.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the prompt, Riz :)


End file.
